


Heat Haze

by vienn_peridot



Series: Citrus Basket [21]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Accidental Plot, Alien Biology, Body Modification, Chronic Pain, Established Relationship, Fluff, I'm Going to Hell, Implied/Referenced Torture, Interfacing Mods, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Oral Sex, Other, Shower Sex, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Wet & Messy, cumflation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-03
Updated: 2017-05-03
Packaged: 2018-10-27 05:29:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10802718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vienn_peridot/pseuds/vienn_peridot
Summary: Rung goes into heat unexpectedly.The rest is... um... yeah.





	Heat Haze

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SparkBeat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SparkBeat/gifts).



> Babby's first cumflation fic.  
> Oh gods what has this fandom _done_ to me?!

Rung’s entire frame had been consumed with strut-deep aches for nearly a fortnight now. His tanks always felt overfull, so much so that he regularly forgot to fuel and even his usual favourite neon-and-corundum snacks seemed unappealing. Now his helm ached too. Tight knots of agony coiled around where cervical struts met helm joint and sent dull waves of pain radiating out through his helm.

_At least it’s the end of the day, and tomorrow is a rest day._

These flare-ups were a result of Functionalist testing. They happened often and there was nothing Rung could do but wait them out.

Despite the pain in his helm Rung was smiling to himself as he locked the days’ notes away. The start of this particular flare-up had looked (from the outside) like the beginning of a heat cycle. It had made Wing twitchy and nervous until Rung figure out what was going on and explained what was actually happening.

_Silly jet. Adorable and silly._

Today was the worst day he’d had in a long time and Rung spent the day tempted to comm Wing and beg a raincheck. However Wing _had_ said something about trying to book one of the small oil pools, and Rung did love how the warm oil got into all the small tracks and hinges of his secret compartments and made him feel deliciously smooth and mobile for days afterwards.

And Wing had been as good as his word, arranging everything and sending Rung a message around midday confirming that he had gotten them a private pool. Even with all of his major struts joining in the helmache and sapping his energy, Rung didn’t want to cancel.

The promise of full-frame immersion in warm oil was enough to make him determined to endure whatever he had to in order to get it.

Precisely at the end of Rung’s shift Wing appeared with fuel in his hands and a smile on his face. Rung’s tanks rolled in protest at the sight of the softly glowing cube, but he still forced himself to take an experimental sip when it was pressed into his hands. He almost stalled with amazement, looking up at Wing with his optics cycled wide and trying to figure out if what his sensors reported was real or errors thrown by his current state of constant pain.

“I challenged Swerve to put this together.” Wing’s voice was pitched thoughtfully low to keep from aggravating Rung’s helmache. “Something smooth that tastes like a mild lowgrade but has the energy of standard midgrade.”

“He succeeded.” Rung murmured, finishing the cube despite having thought he wouldn’t be able to stomach more than that first sip. “Please remind me to thank him when I’m feeling better.”

Wing nodded, holding out a hand for Rung and carefully helping the smaller mech to his pedes. They walked slowly; Wing letting him set the pace as they meandered through the Lost Light.

There was absolutely _no_ way Rung would let Wing carry him in public while his legs were still attached and by now the Knight knew it.

When they finally reached the out-of-the-way soaking room Rung felt like his entire frame would seize up the instant he stopped moving. It had happened often enough before that he knew the signs. Leaving Wing to close the door and set the ‘do not disturb’ light, Rung headed straight for the pool. He was halfway over the low barrier encircling the edge when Wing caught up with him and used his longer legs to step right into the warm oil, turning and lifting Rung in despite the smaller mech’s automatic protests.

Rung stopped growling as soon as Wing let go and sat on a submerged ledge, allowing Rung to do as he wished now that he was actually in the pool. Suddenly only one thing mattered to Rung’s aching frame and the tiredness that had been tugging at him seemed to vanish.

_Primus this oil feels good._

The heat was already easing the aches of his lower legs, armour relaxing to let the oil closer to his protoform. Sighing with relief, Rung waded out to the middle of the pool, sealed his vents and lowering his frame until he was completely submerged.

The heat soaked into him, easing sore struts as the oil worked its way into every crack and seam of his frame. He stayed under until orange-level overheating warnings popped up on his HUD, surfacing reluctantly to exhale steam from every vent above the surface of the pool.

“Better?” Wing asked, covertly assisting Rung into his lap when he couldn’t make it under his own power.

“Much better.” Rung murmured, rubbing an oil-coated cheek against Wing’s pristine chestplates. “A few more dips and I’ll be almost as good as new.”

His estimation was correct. After his third full-frame immersion Rung was able to climb into Wing’s lap under his own power, resting his helm on the jet’s clavicular assembly and letting his engine purr audibly as he laced their fingers together under the oil. As the heat seeped into Rung’s frame it soothed away his stiffness and strut-deep pain, replacing it with lazy relaxation.

Content to stay where he was he let Wing take his weight, leaning back against his lover and letting the fingers of his free hand glide over oil-slicked armour. The heat of the oil seemed to fill his entire frame, gathering in his core and radiating back outwards to soothe away the last of the aches. Sighing happily he sagged into Wing’s lap, engine purring louder as he nuzzled at the jet’s neck cables, lipping teasingly at ones he knew to be particularly sensitive.

Wing shivered, thighs tensed beneath Rung as he tilted his helm invitingly, exposing his neck cables and giving the orange mech more room to play.

“Shall we go rinse off?” Wing suggested, his free hand drawing tingling patterns over the metal of Rung’s thighs while the other one made naughty chirolingual suggestions. “Then I can polish you up, get you all scuffed and buff you again when you’re sated.”

“Yes _please_ ,” Rung pressed some raunchy ideas of his own into Wing’s hand before letting go and turning, rising to balance with his knees on the jet’s thighs as he kissed him thoroughly. “As many times as you like.”

He didn’t protest as Wing scooped him up, cradling him close to warm white armour as the Knight stood and carried him from the pool

It was so good to be free of pain, he didn’t want to risk a wrong move bringing it all back and Wing understood this completely. From things he’d mentioned about his past Rung suspected that Wing had farm more intimate personal knowledge of physical pain than he liked to let on.

Wing turned the shower rinse on but didn’t step under right away; holding Rung Close with one arm while he tested the spray with his free hand. While he did this Rung trailed kisses up and down Wing’s neck cables, letting his hands wander more boldly as his frame lost a little of the heat from the oil but didn’t immediately stiffen up. Finally Wing had to set Rung down to keep but this didn’t stop the smaller mech, who laughed and shifted his attention to sensitive vents instead.

When Wing was satisfied with the temperature he adjusted the spray radius and pressure despite Rung’s best attempts to distract him. Eventually the Knight crowded him under the spray, laughing at Rung’s indignant reaction.

It was mostly for show; Wing had made sure the rinse was the same temperature as the pool so Rung was once again blissfully warm as the gentle shower spray chased the oil from their frames. Sighing happily, he reached up to grab Wing’s chinpiece and pulled his taller lover down into a lazy kiss. Heat built quickly within him as Wing’s soft lipplates yielded to his, their cooling fans activating in tandem.

A series of notifications scrolled over Rung’s HUD but he was too busy to pay attention to them. He wanted more of Wing and those kisses, wanted to caress every inch of that beautiful, powerful frame and feel it shuddering against him as he brought pleasure to the one who was taking such good care of him.

Somehow he communicated this desire to Wing, in broken snatches of words murmured between kisses that had become open-mouthed and sloppy. His answer was a sudden, flirtatious flare of flightpanels accompanied by a familiar lustful growl. Wing slipped away from Rung’s mouth then, moving down to nibble and suck at neck cables that felt swollen from a combination of the heat of the oil and the arousal burning it’s way though Rung’s frame.

Digging his fingers into the join of shoulder and turbine Rung struggled to keep his balance, his knees going weak as Wing changed target. The uncontrollable moans pouring from his vocaliser would have been embarrassing if he could concentrate on anything but what Wing was doing to his fragile antennae. A gentle scrape of denta over thin metal brought a spice of danger that set fire to Rung’s entire frame.

Somehow he got Wing turned around, legs spread and palms to the wall as his hands travelled down from those beautiful articulated flightpanels to caress the sleek lines of white skirting plates. Wing shivered, pedes shifting wider, lowering his frame so Rung could do as he wished. He continued to tease, sliding his hands up underneath those skirting panels to ghost over Wing’s aft, chasing stray droplets of oil until he reached the swiftly-heating metal over his potential mate’s array. It folded away beneath his thumbs as skirting panels transformed aside, giving him unimpeded access.

Purring his delight, Rung kept his hands where they were and bowed his helm to kiss his way down Wing’s lower spinal struts. The jet moaned beneath him, flightpanels trembling as he tilted his hips to present his valve properly. His biolights glowed brightly with arousal, lubricant a thick glossy layer over the cushioning folds.

“Oh, _Wing_.”

Shining white armour flexed as Wing preened at the reverence in Rung’s voice, wiggling his hips cheekily to draw attention to the thin lines of protoform-inset biolighting. The veins of rich red and golden lighting glowed steadily brighter as Rung refused to act, playing to Wing’s exhibitionist kink. He could see how well it was working, lube gathering in the little hollow of Wing’s entrance, welling up and threatening to drip wastefully to the floor.

Rung was having none of that. Not today.

Growling low in his vocaliser he surged forward, lowering his helm as he hauled on Wing’s hips to bring them to the right angle for what he intended. Without preamble Rung went straight for that tantalising liquid shine, sealing his lips to Wing’s hot protoflesh and sucking _hard_ ; relishing the musky-sweet flavour that flooded his mouth.

Feral hunger rose within Rung as Wing squealed, hips jerking in Rung’s hold and mashing his valve awkwardly into the smaller mech’s faceplates. His thoughts melted into a haze of lust as Wing moaned and rocked back against him, murmuring words of praise and desire as Rung teased him open with his glossa, extending the modified length as far as it could reach.

Somewhere over the hunger pounding through his lines Rung felt his pelvic armour finally give way to the demands of his equipment, transforming open to allow his swollen equipment some freedom. Nothing was audible over Wing’s delighted moans and the slurping sounds Rung was making. A thick, cloying odour filled the air briefly before the shower spray washed it from the air.

Metal screamed against ceramic as Wing dragged a hand down the wall, crying out as he overloaded on Rung’s glossa, sending streams of lubricant cascading down Rung’s chin. Rung purred as he eased Wing through the overload and gentled him from back-arched ecstasy to eager desire for another round. The inviting trills pouring from Wing’s vocaliser pierced the lust fogging Rung’s processors briefly, just long enough for a single clear thought.

 _This one. Oh Primus I want him._ Need _him_.

Suddenly Rung’s frame was aching again, aching for Wing. He pulled reluctantly away from where he was mouthing sloppily at the jet’s slick folds. Wing said something flirtatious that Rung didn’t catch, too busy swiping at the thick, ropey strands of mixed lubricant and oral solvent hanging from his chin to pay attention. He let his dripping glossa retract back into his mouth, shuffling forward awkwardly, so aroused he could barely walk without jostling his oversensitive components.

Something surged within Rung and instead of the slow, teasing slide he’d been vaguely contemplating –after a while of sliding teasingly through the lubricant straggling from Wing’s slick array- he snapped his hips forward, piercing Wing to the hilt in a single smooth thrust.

Fully sheathed in Wing, Rung’s frame took over. His hips moved rapidly in short, shallow thrusts that made Wing beg in words Rung couldn’t quite grasp through the hunger filling him. If comprehending the meaning of Wing’s words was beyond him right now the intent was still clear, carried in tone of voice and actions as Wing arched so that Rung hit his favourite nodes.

_Yes. I like this. More._

With a snarling engine Rung complied, picking up the pace as he fragged his mate towards overload.

Lubricant squished and splattered as Wing purred beneath him, moving back into his thrusts to get the depth of penetration Rung hadn’t given him so far. The caress of hot, wet valve walls over his aching spike was divine. Wing’s callipers massaged him in a way that was suddenly too much and Rung lurched forward over the jet’s lower back, overloading with a shout that echoed off the washrack walls.

Unerringly he found the recess at the end of Wing’s passage, spike expanding and locking him in place as he emptied himself into the jet’s chamber in a scalding rush of liquid lightning that rocketed through him and into his chosen mate. Distantly he was aware of powerful turbines screaming as Wing overloaded, his valve passage clamping down tightly on Rung to keep him still and coax out all his frame had to give.

When Wing’s valve relaxed enough for his softening spike to slip free, Rung staggered a step or two backwards on shaky legs and sat abruptly. The cool tiled floor felt wonderful against his overheating frame so he settled back on his elbows, watching Wing intently. Small scrapes of orange paint stood out clearly against the armour of his pelvic assembly and thighs; the sight bringing a smug smile to Rung’s lips.

The initial phase had gone well; if his chosen mate accepted him then they would proceed. If not, then Rung would go out and find another who might be willing to mate with him. If Wing accepted the priming carried in Rung’s fluids it wouldn’t be long before it showed.

Hungry blue optics focused on Wing’s trembling frame and pulsing, glowing valve as Rung waited, a hand creeping down between his own legs to stroke a flaccid spike that had yet to retract. It was still slippery from their fluids. Rung spread the gloopy lube mix around, feeling it start to dry into a sticky layer over his burning array as he waited and watched and touched himself.

Then Wing straightened up and turned, bright optics locking on Rung in a fiery stare as he contemplated the orange mech sprawled on the floor. Rung’s valve throbbed, his spike stirring to life again under Wing’s gaze.

White armour flared in a tantalising display, revealing hidden biolights and bringing a moan to Rung’s vocaliser. Desperate to be found acceptable, desperate to have his mate claim him, Rung let go of his spike and dropped his hand to his valve, parting the swollen and slippery external folds to make a brazen display of the brightly pulsing biolights surrounding his entrance.

Wing’s turbines whined with lust, drowning out any sound that came from Rung’s vocaliser as the jet stooped in a blinding flash. Rung was snatched up, whirled around and his backplates pressed against the cool wall while Wing’s helm nuzzled between his legs. He gasped as Wing trailed stinging nips up the thin metal of his inner thighs, licking the pain away and turning it into waves of searing pleasure that rolled through his unresisting frame.

Whimpering and thrashing beneath the onslaught, Rung chewed his lower lipplate and tried to guide the attention to where he needed it most.

 _Please, please, I_ need _you. PLEASE._

Then he was grabbing at Wing’s helm with both hands as those denta grazed up the underside of his spike. Rung arched and wailed when Wing licked him, tasting the remains of their interfacing mixing with the fresh fluid pulsing from the head of his spike. Powerful flight engines purred as Rung’s mate tormented him, taking his time as he licked and sucked to make sure his spike was perfectly clean before moving lower.

Something soft and wet flicked across Rung’s folds, sampling the lubricant that had pooled there. Wing moaned low in his vocaliser as his primed and ready systems registered the cyberomone-rich lube Rung’s frame was producing. Rung felt the jet’s seldom-used claws prick his protoform as black warrior hands flexed on him, sending a delicious shiver through him.

Coding purred approval as desire surged to new heights.

_Strong mate, good choice._

Wing’s glossa flicked out again; a cool, broad stroke across heat-swollen protoflesh.

It was bliss.

Rung’s helm thudded back against the wall and his small hands petted at white helm flares as Wing lapped and nuzzled at his valve with less than his usual skill, his own coding surging in response to the chemical signals carried in Rung’s fluids and the information imparted by Rung’s nanites in his tank.

Strong hands held Rung’s knees apart when they moved to clamp around his mate’s helm. Whining, he ground his valve against Wing’s faceplates. An obliging glossa slipped into his entrance; the unmodified thing teasing Rung more than satisfying him even as Wing growled and began to glossa-frag him with gusto. Wet sounds rose from between Rung’s thighs as Wing gulped his lubricant down, rubbing his nasal ridge against throbbing external nodes to make Rung produce more.

Too-slim, too-short teasing glossa wriggled and flicked over the shallowest ranks of nodes, bringing pleasure and building anticipation to dizzying heights. Wailing with a combination of exquisite pleasure and absolute desperation, Rung jerked in Wing’s grip, tossing his helm from side to side. He got control over his flailing legs and dug his heels into Wing’s spinal struts, arching his back to mash swollen valve folds into his mate’s face in a futile attempt to get deeper, more satisfying penetration. It was given when that maddening mouth pulled away, shifted back up to his spike and Rung felt familiar digits slide around the curve of his aft and sink deep into his aching valve. Two fingers passed inside easily, stroking and exploring Rung’s passage as that frustrating, _wonderful_ glossa licked slowly along his shaft.

Somehow in his squirming attempts to force those fingers deeper Rung managed to get the head of his spike into Wing’s mouth. Wrapping his lips around it, Wing _sucked_ and all strength ran out of Rung, sweeping away in a wave of mind-blanked pleasure. The fingers in his valve withdrew and tried to return with a third to help relax his wildly clenching callipers enough to take a spike. He wailed and shuddered helplessly against the wall as his mate prepared him slowly and with care, doing sinful things with glossa and fingers until the desire for overload was almost as strong as the heat now ruling Rung’s frame.

When the fingers finally retreated from Rung’s valve passage he sobbed and clawed at slippery-smooth armour, desperate to have them return and ease the ache they’d been soothing so well.

Movement registered, someone rearranging his limbs and sliding him down so his backplates rested against a cooler patch of wall. Soothing hands caressed his frame as he whimpered with desperation, hips twitching as he sought something, _anything_ to keep his internal sensors from touching and ease the aching emptiness inside. His mate was taking too long, the self-control Rung valued turning into a torment.

 _Please, please, need you,_ please!

Wing shifted, Rung’s backplates scraped against the wall and then his quiet sounds of desperation rose into a full-throated wail of relief as something firm and blunt parted his swollen folds, found his entrance and pressed inside.

The slow smooth slide of a spike over hypersensitive protoflesh overwhelmed Rung, becoming his entire universe as relief compounded the pleasure surging through his systems. His vocaliser crackled with overuse and reset by the time Wing was halfway in, rebooting to produce an endless stream of low, breathless cries of bliss. His hands patted clumsily at red-and-white chestplates, trying to express things he couldn’t find words for anymore.

By the time Rung was fully-impaled and shivering with reaction they were both panting through every vent, cooling systems relining and Wing’s turbines churning the steam filling the washracks into a chaotic storm of shredded vapour. By now Rung’s optical feed was hazy with interference from the charge coursing through his frame so he let the visual feeds shut down, hooking his fingers into Wing’s chest vents and hitching his shaking legs up to lock his ankles securely around the jet’s back.

A low laugh flowed from Wing’s vocaliser and Rung felt soft lips trail a line of kisses over his helm crest as Wing finally began to move. Slow, steady thrusts had Rung adrift on a sea of pleasure that seemed endless, although something inside him knew it would have to end if he wanted the nagging twinge in his tanks to go away. He sighed, rocking slowly in counterpoint to his mate’s movements and savouring the relief he knew would be temporary.

When strong fingers stroked gently down his jaw Rung struggled to raise his helm, bringing his optics online and tipping his helm back against the wall so he could see his mate. Wing’s golden optics blazed; an almost incandescent yellow-white in his smiling face as his thrusts became shaky.

On the next inward stroke Rung dropped his hips, fitting the head of Wing’s spike into the chamber at the end of his valve and falling soundlessly into overload. It moved through him like a wave, an endless surge of bliss as Wing’s spike locked in place and he shivered as overload cascaded through him. White flightpanels extended and Rung _felt_ the roar of jet engines firing as Wing filled his empty chamber with liquid heat.

It was just enough to take the edge off but nowhere near enough to properly sate his frame. His callipers clutched at Wing, keeping the jet inside him as they slid down the wall to collapse in a pile of limbs, cooling systems working hard to bring their frames down to safe operating levels. Something whispered from deep within Rung, something his hazy, semiconscious thoughts agreed with.

_Rest, recover, repeat._

 

## ~V~V~V~

 

Suddenly the steam vanished in a _woosh_ as the ships’ atmospheric systems cut in to reduce the temperature they’d gotten the washracks to.

Startled, Wing lunged up to cover Rung with his frame, optics searching for the source of danger. Under the influence of Rung’s cycle they were both vulnerable, but Rung especially so.

Nothing. They were alone.

Vague embarrassment filtered through the relief that filled Wing as he sat back on his heels, letting Rung up before he accidentally crushed the smaller mech. Possessive desire surged as he watched Rung stretch sensuously and prop himself up to look up at Wing with bright optics and a lazy, knowing smile. They were both still far too hot to resume safely, armour flared out and cooling fans whining away at their highest settings.

Teasing was still very much an option, though.

That deliciously kissable smile changed to a smirk as Rung posed invitingly, dragging fingers through the sticky mess coating his inner thighs. His display combined with the effect of Rung’s nanites in his tank filtering into his systems and the cyberomones Rung’s frame was producing Wing was instantly aroused and ready to go despite the massive overload pulled from him bare minutes ago.

Slim fingers drew Wing’s attention to the streaks of white paint decorating orange enamel and he burned with the desire to lick them. Fingers or thighs, he wasn’t sure which. He would be happy to get his mouth on any part of Rung right now, but couldn’t until their core temperatures returned to normal ranges.

Since he couldn’t do what he wanted at that moment, Wing decided to return Rung’s teasing in kind.

Watching Rung’s reaction carefully, Wing spread his flightpanels wide and let them sway invitingly before locking them out. The way Rung’s optics followed the movement was incredibly gratifying, his fingers slowing their dance on his own thighs and actually twitching in Wing’s direction before Rung stopped himself.

Trilling, Wing flared his armour and stroked his turbines, watching Rung bite his lip as slender guidance flaps shivered and stood away from the main nacelles.

Blue optics followed the path of Wing’s fingers intently as he trailed them down his torso, taking his time, caressing orange paint transfers with little moans of delight until he reached his hips. It was apparently too much for Rung to resist. He was inching forwards now, sneaking towards Wing. Instead of going for the obvious Wing let his fingers skip down to his thighs, fingers sliding down the smooth metal, easing his knees apart almost coyly to display his achingly aroused equipment for his mate’s inspection.

Rung whimpered, frame shivering as a fresh burst of cyberomones reached Wing’s chemoreceptors. At some point during Wing’s little display their cooling fans had shut down and neither of them had noticed; Wing too busy teasing and Rung too busy devouring Wing with his optics.

Licking his lips, Rung moved closer; optics fixed on the biolights of Wing’s array where it was framed by dark fingers. Wing watched and waited, biding his time until Rung was right up between his thighs, helm scant inches from his achingly aroused array. When he could feel the slow exhalations from Rung’s mouth cooling the lubricant gathering on his valve folds, Wing struck.

In a flash he was behind Rung, purring delightedly at his mate’s surprised reaction. He caressed his mate’s slim hips, admiring the mess of paint transfers and drying lubricant left by their earlier activities. Rung arched and moaned beneath his hands, spreading his thighs and tilting his pelvis to better present his blinking, leaking entrance to Wing. Lower down, Wing could see Rung’s spike fully-extended and dripping, ready to deliver more priming nanite to himself or another potential mate if one should prove themselves to be a better choice than Wing.

_Mine!_

Growling a denial of the possibility Wing lunged forwards, catching the dribbles of lubricant coming from Rung to taste his readiness.

At the first contact Rung yelped, vocaliser quickly changing to moans as he rocked back, pressing his valve to Wing’s mouth. Fresh lube rich with cyberomones flowed under the stimulation of Wing’s glossa, rich and sharp, encouraging him to continue.

Determined to thoroughly satisfy Rung, to prove he was a good choice of mate Wing reached awkwardly forward between Rung’s splayed thighs, wrapping a hand around the smaller mech’s spike and stroking in time with the movements of his glossa in Rung’s valve.

Overstimulated, Rung’s grinding became desperate and he overloaded with a shuddering cry. Lube gushed into Wing’s mouth faster than he could handle, flooding over his faceplates and down his chin. Nanites splattered across the floor as Rung’s spike discharged powerfully, the complex head twitching and flaring, seeking a valve that wasn’t there.

Ignoring the slick, pungent mess Rung had just made of his faceplates Wing straightened up, using one hand to hold his shuddering mate still while he guided his spike to Rung’s entrance with the other.

The emotions surging through Wing found release in a fast, driving rhythm completely unlike his earlier measured pace. Rung’s post-overload moans rose in volume to full-throated cries of bliss as he pressed his chest to the messy floor and rocked his hips back into Wing’s thrusts.

Growling, Wing mantled and hunched low over his mate’s back, spreading his narrow flightpanels in an instinctive, pointless attempt to shield Rung from non-existent optics. A delicious haze clouded Wing’s processor as Rung rocked and moaned with pleasure beneath him. Leaning forward, he nuzzled the crest of the small orange helm.

When Rung dropped his helm and arched his neck Wing moved lower to lick and nibble on the sensitive neck cables he’d just been given access to. The sounds his actions pulled from Rung were electrifying; the way his passage pulsed and rippled around Wing’s spike drove him to new heights of lust.

Growling with engines and vocaliser he increased his pace, flightpanels and nacelle flaps flaring and shivering at maximum extension. Through the white noise filling his audials Wing picked up a scraping noise from below, one slightly out-of-time with the slap and clang of his rutting.

Shifting his head from where he continued to ravish the cables of Rung’s neck he saw his mate’s knees scraping across the floor, driven by the force of his thrusts.

Crooning apologetically Wing straightened up a little, wrapping his hands carefully around Rung’s slender waist, sliding lower to cradle the narrow hips. The white Knight lifted his mate with careless strength, holding Rung slightly above the floor as he continued chasing their next overload. His hips pistoned relentlessly, driving through Rung’s hot, wet passage and bringing the smaller mech to another noisy overload before Wing felt his own peak approaching.

It slammed into him, driving his hips forward in a sudden jerk to socket home with a roar of jet engines, spiketip expanding to open Rung’s internal valve and begin pumping a second load of his nanites into the orange mech’s chamber.

Rung warbled below him, his filling tanks driving him into another overload right on the heels of the last. Shuddering, Wing groaned low and rested his forehelm on Rung’s back as his mate’s overload extended his own, _pulling_ the nanites and conductive fluid from him.

Plating shifted beneath Wing’s thumbs where they rested along Rung’s sides. His fingertips twitched, gently exploring the slowly moving metal as Rung’s abdominal armour folded back, retracting to his waist.

Smooth, hot dermal metal met Wing’s fingertips as they gently traced the expanding curve of Rung’s lower abdomen. The sheer volume of fluid and nanites currently filling Rung’s tanks was forcing his frame to expand in order to accommodate it. Wing shivered at the thought of what would happen when Rung’s inductive nanite supply had replenished itself. He would accept the priming as many times as was needed to ensure his mate was satisfied.

Eventually Rung’s valve released him and Wing withdrew with a low sigh, his flaccid spike slipping easily out through the wash of lubricant Rung had produced. Easing his exhausted mate carefully down, Wing curled himself around the smaller mech, keeping him as warm and protected as he could as they both slipped into exhausted recharge.

 

## ~V~V~V~

 

The sound of a door opening snapped Wing from deep recharge to battle readiness in a split second.

 _Intruder_.

His entire awareness narrowed to the threat, one that could harm his mate or outshine him in Rung’s optics. Determined to prove himself superior, to prove himself worthy, Wing snarled and ruffled his armour in an aggressive display, turbines shrieking and seldom-used claws extending as he lunged for the huge, heavily-armoured groundframe standing idiotically still in the doorway.

The groundframe had good reflexes, sliding back out of range at the last second and allowing the door to slam shut just before Wing would have been through it and on him. Wing slid to a halt just before the door, not trusting the easy win.

Growling and flexing his claws he waited for the intruder to return.

Long, tense minutes passed before he was satisfied that he’d driven them off. Huffing and settling his armour, Wing returned to where Rung was watching with great interest from a sprawled position on the patch of floor where they’d been sleeping. The orange mech had his thighs spread wide and he slipped a hand between them when he saw Wing’s optics on him. He spread his fingers, displaying the first few inches of his arousal-relaxed valve passage and the bright biolights within.

Lubricant coated everything, shimmering with reflected light.

It made Wing’s mouth water.

As he approached Rung the smaller mech trilled invitingly, a sound that brought Wing’s spike surging back to full extension and banished any thoughts of licking bright cyan biolights and playing with swollen nodes until Rung begged for release.

Engines rolling in a low purr, Wing knelt and brushed his forehelm gently against the smaller grey one. The nuzzle he received turned into soft, open-mouthed kisses and Rung’s arms wound around his neck and Wing let himself be drawn down.

Taking care to keep pressure off the smaller mech’s unprotected lower belly, Wing lined up without looking and slid effortlessly into Rung’s valve passage. He swallowed the satisfied moan that rose from Rung’s vocaliser and the ones that followed, scattering kisses across orange cheekpieces and rounded audial mounds when Rung started tossing his helm back and forward as yet another overload approached.

Rung overloaded first, pulling Wing with him in a repeat of their last coupling. Muffling his hoarse groan of release in Rung’s shoulder, Wing wrapped his arms around the smaller mech and let Rung take what he needed. It was just as long as before, the hot grip of Rung’s valve on his spikehead extending Wing’s overload until thoughts failed and all he knew was bliss and the mech in his arms.

When Rung’s valve mechanisms finally released him it took Wing a few seconds to pull himself together. Rung was twisting beneath him, chirps of discomfort coming from his vocaliser.

As Wing sat back and his limp, oversensitive spike slipped from Rung’s valve in a rush of fluids he saw the source of his mate’s discomfort. The slender waist had thickened with retracted armour, the bared protoform of his lower belly which was now visibly swollen by the swelling of his tanks.

Under the combined influence of Wing’s overloads and Rung’s own nanite production he’d gained a small potbelly. His spike stood hard and erect beneath it, the shaft glistening with lubricants and conductive fluid.

Crooning understanding, Wing nuzzled his mate’s erection to get his attention before shuffling back a bit and turning around, kneeling and presenting his valve to be mounted. He let his callipers flex, making the biolights just inside his entrance flash invitingly at his desperate mate.

 

## ~V~V~V~

 

Rung didn’t need to be asked twice.

In a flash he was on his knees behind Wing, sliding into the welcoming and well-prepared passage with a low groan. He had to move carefully, his distended belly throwing off his movements and squashing uncomfortably against Wing’s aft until he worked out how deep he could comfortably penetrate with it in the way.

This time there he would have no snug connection to Wing’s inner valve. Until Rung could empty himself a little or they tried another position he would wastefully deposit his nanites in Wing’s passage and have to hope that some could be sucked through into the chamber beyond. The nanites were the only way his frame had to communicate the status of his heat cycle to his mate.

Overload hit fast, fast enough that it would have been embarrassing if he had been in full possession of his faculties. With a shattering cry Rung’s back arched as his spikehead expanded and he ejaculated uselessly within Wing’s passage, uncontrollable bursts of hot fluid mixing with the lubrication Wing was producing. His belly slapped rhythmically against Wing’s aft as he kept thrusting through the overload, their combined fluids spurting out to run down their thighs as his overload ebbed and Wing began rocking back into his thrusts.

The jet was pleading in wordless sounds, wriggling his hips to grind their arrays together as Rung’s tanks slowly deflated to bring them to the edge of proper connection. It was tantalisingly close, the head of Rung’s spike flirting with the boundary zone.

Apparently this was driving Wing insane with frustration.

Rung had to dig his fingertips into the tender connections of the jet’s hips to keep his mate from ramming that armoured aft back into Rung’s unprotected belly. He was determined not to leave his mate wanting, pulling himself closer with each thrust through the sopping, scalding heat of Wing’s passage, all but climbing the larger mech’s frame, ignoring the discomfort of pressing his exposed and bloated belly to Wing’s lower back and grinding his hips in short, sharp circles in an attempt to close that last precious bit of distance.

It worked.

Wing’s internal valve sucked the head of Rung’s spike in, clamping down tight and holding him in place as the jet’s overload crested with a shriek, dragging an unprotesting Rung with him into blissful release. He shook beneath Rung, wailing into the tiles of the washrack floor as his frame drank in everything Rung had to give before letting go. When it did they slumped to the floor in a blissful, sated tangle of limbs.

With the reduction of pressure the demands of Rung’s frame quietened a little. The pleasant fog filling his processors seemed to ebb a little.

_Wha?_

Noise from the door got his attention.

_Waiterbot?_

Someone had commandeered one of Swerve’s ‘Waiterbot’ drones, loaded it with two thick crashmats from the training rooms and a neatly-folded pile of tarps. Rung caught the flash of medical-grade ration gels as the little drone deposited its burden just inside the door and reversed out.

Smiling to himself, Rung let his helm drop down to rest on Wing’s backplates as the jet shivered through the aftermath of overload.

They’d make use of the new supplies in a little while. Right now he was draped over his mate and far too comfortable to want to bother with moving.

**Author's Note:**

> Soooo the mech who walked in by accident could be Ultra Magnus, Fort Max or Megatron; whoever you think would be funniest. **ANYWAY** after [Insert Name] almost got their face ripped off they went to those in charge with the news that Rung had gone into heat in that washrack and Wing was with him. Command cordoned off that bit of corridor and Rodimus decided to confiscate a waiterbot to send in supplies, because like hell was anyone gonna risk delivering them XD
> 
> Added 4/5: Just realised why the title's been bugging me. I read an epic start of a deliciously dark+twisted prowl-centric kinkmeme fill the other night involving something called 'laying haze' and that's probably where I got this from 0.0;


End file.
